Weaving the Threads of Fate
by HachimansKitsune
Summary: While the fates may spin the thread, it is our actions that weave them. This story is a 'prequel' to 'The Labyrinth' in which our favourite Goblin King and a young Sarah weave the fabric of their destiny, with the threads of fate given to each of them at their birth. some Child!Jareth, but mostly Paternal!Jareth and Child!Sarah
1. Chapter 1

**Weaving the Threads of Fate**

 **Ch. 1 Small Beginnings**

"One more big push, Your Majesty," smiled the old goblin crone, looking up at the tired but still radiant face of Queen Marin. The midwife adjusted the Queen's leg so that her thigh was resting against Oona's body, while her calf was draped over Oona's shoulder. It had been a long, rough labor, but the end was quite literally in sight. Glancing down, Oona hid a frown. She should see hair by now, but there was just a green glow, yet when she felt, she could feel the baby's head. After nearly three days of laboring, the High Queen was reaching the end of her endurance. For her safety and that of the babe, they needed to get the child born. "Just brace your leg on ole Oona, take a deep breath and when you feel the pains start again, you just give a big ole grunt and shift that lil prince out into the world."

Panting, the petite blonde on the bed shook her head, the fine linen chemise stuck to her body from the the hours of painful labor. "I can't," she moaned, as the muscles over her swollen belly began to ripple with the labor spasms again. "So…tired," Queen Marin sighed, shutting her eyes and leaning her head against her husband.

"Come on, love," murmured the king, eyeing the worried expression on Oona's face. "I know you're tired and you can rest as soon as the babe has had his first breath. You're doing great, darling, just one more push," he said, his lips brushing across the exhausted queen's forehead, while his crystal blue eyes watched the rippling muscles over her stomach.

Queen Marin shifted in the sweat soaked sheets of the bed, wrapping her arm over her husband's thigh and gripping his hand tightly, pulling energy from him. Looking up, she stared into the blue eyes of the man she loved with all her heart, then lifted her hand and stroked the feathery ebony strands back from his cheek.

"Please, love," he nearly begged, his crystal eyes betraying his fears. "You're so close now."

Squeezing his hand, Marin pushed against the old midwife, a loud grunt filling the queen's solar. Barely breathing, she continued to push, the grunt giving way to a scream of agony as the contraction continued. Hearing their beloved queen scream, the goblins lurking throughout the castle threw back their heads and wailed along with her, their hearts feeling her pain and fear. As suddenly as the scream began, it ended and there was silence – and with it, every creature in the Labyrinthian Kingdom listened, waiting for the cry they were sure would come.

But it didn't.

Marin collapsed weakly against her husband, her body a limp rag of exhaustion. King Bran looked from his darling wife to the midwife's troubled expression, his own expression remaining guarded as kissed Marin's ashen forehead. "Well done, my darling love. You did it," he said gently. Looking at Oona, he murmured, "Why has he not cried?"

Laying out a towel, Oona shook her head, picking up the baby as her assistant leaned over her shoulder, only to cover her mouth and back away in horror. Seeing her terrified face, Bran leant forward, stunned to see his child wrapped in a shimmering caul that glowed faint green with each beat of his heart. "By the Gods, Oona…what's wrong with him?"

Oona ignored the question as she gently laid the babe on the towel, just as a rush of watery crimson poured onto the bed. The queen gave a weak moan, her hand falling limply from her husband's.

"Here, take the baby!" Oona gasped, thrusting the towel wrapped baby at the High King. "She must hold him…now…before it is too late!" she insisted, as the confused king took the baby.

King Bran looked down at the small bundle, while Oona barked orders to her staff, the flow of blood from the queen staining the bedclothes deep red, and continuing to spread. Propping his wife in his arms, he helped her hold the small baby, who had yet to make a sound. "Hang on, my love," Bran now begged, cradling his limp wife in his arms as he held her hands around their son. "Please, darling, he'll need you. We both will."

The orders given by Oona became more urgent as the queen's complexion grew more ashen, her skin soon nearly as pale as her hair. Within the glowing caul, the baby became restless, shifting as if trying to nudge the limp hands of his mother to hold him. Unable to stand it any longer, Bran reached forward and with one long nail, hooked the top of the caul, tearing it. A rush of fluid poured from inside, drenching the queen and king, as the young prince threw his head back and wailed angrily. Bran waved his hand over his wife, her wet linen shift disappearing, leaving her nude in his arms. Shifting the child slightly in his arms, he smiled when the angry prince found a nipple and latched on, sucking greedily. Watching his newborn son feed, the High King prayed to the Gods that his wife would survive, while all around the room, the healers and attendants held their breath

Throughout the room, there was silence, as Oona administered the last of her healing herbs, everyone watching the queen and the prince. After several minutes, the little prince let loose the nipple and opened his eyes, peering at his father with one crystal blue and one nearly black eye, before giving out a cry that set the goblins off once more – the goblin mourning wail carrying over the kingdom, initiated by their own prince, as the last beat of his mother's heart still fluttered against his cheek.

The tiny prince continued his mournful cry, a cry that seemed to carry with it all of the sadness of those who had gone before. But as he howled, a strange green glow began deeper within the caul. Puzzled, Bran reached over, gently tearing the shimmering bag further, to reveal a sparkling green crystal the size of a small plum. He glanced up at Oona who was watching with interest, her lined face cast in awe.

"A soul crystal," she breathed, looking from the crystal to the High King. "The child has spun his own soul crystal."

As they watched, the crystal began to pulse, as if with a heartbeat all its own, the glow rising and falling in time to the gentle hum. Abruptly the tiny prince stopped wailing. He looked down at the small crystal, then curled himself around it, as if drawing comfort from the gentle hum and soft glowing warmth. With a tired yawn, he closed his eyes, his little body still wrapped around the green crystal – his soul crystal, which held the thread of fate that would become his love, his destiny… his soul mate.

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 **Author's Note:** Yes, I've started another one. This idea came to me this morning while I was driving geekling to school, so I had to act on it. I'm not giving up on my other WIPs, in fact, this one will butt up against 'Life with the Goblin King' - in many ways, it is a 'prequel' to the whole 'Labyrinth' story. From here on out the story will be more 'perky'. I promise. :) Next chapter of '50 Shades' will be up sometime this week.


	2. Chapter 2

**Weaving the Threads of Fate**

 **Ch 2. The Warp and Weft**

The death of the queen struck the whole kingdom hard, the mourning period lasting long past the required month. Twelve months later, King Bran was still mourning his beloved wife. Unlike other men however, instead of sending the child away to be raised by a wet nurse and nanny, he kept the infant prince nearby under the care of old Oona.

Once word of the glowing green caul and soul crystal got out, there wasn't a nanny in any of the five kingdoms that would agree to take the position of nanny to the young prince. So, it fell to Oona to act as nanny, while her daughter took on the role of wet nurse. It wasn't the first time Oona had been nanny for the royal family, nor was Jareth the first child born within a caul that she had cared for. For their part, Oona and her daughter Unna, felt honored to not only be looking after the prince, but also to be allowed to care for one who had been deemed by the Fates to be special – for it was not every day that a creature was born with a caul upon them, much less having spun their own soul stone while within it. As much as the caul and soul stone made the tiny prince a being to be feared by many, for those who remembered the 'old ways', those signs marked him as special – destined to be powerful.

While King Bran, Oona and Unna cared for the tiny prince, they learned early on that the soul stone crystal was most definitely _his_. For weeks after his birth they would take the crystal from him and place it safely upon a stand in the High King's study. Each time they took it, the tiny prince would wail angrily, clenching his little fists and waving them about, his strange eyes narrowed in frustration. Within minutes of the crystal being locked away it would be found back in the little prince's grasp. Sometimes they would find it rolling down the halls until it found him, other times it would float upon the air, carried by unfelt currents. After several weeks of trying to keep it safe, they simply gave up. The soul crystal belonged to Jareth and with him it would stay – whether by his desire or that of the soul thread inside the crystal, no one knew.

The days and years passed, as the tiny prince grew, until at last he was granted his first kingdom, becoming the Goblin King - Lord of the Labyrinth and Keeper of Dreams.

And always within his possession, he kept the glowing green soul stone that continued to pulse with the life force of his destined mate.

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Jareth lounged on his throne, his right leg thrown over the side, as he lay there, idly tapping the end of his crop against the side of his leather covered calf. He had been the Goblin King for over 500 years, and today appear, on the surface at least, to be the same as any other day in the Goblin Kingdom. The minions in the throne room were creating a horrific amount of noise and those that weren't making noise had drunk themselves into a stupor. Elsewhere in the kingdom, the goblins and Labyrinthian citizens were going about their daily lives, all of the unaware of the disturbance which seemed to electrify their monarch. Something was coming – the Goblin King felt it with every beat of his heart.

He first noticed the feeling a week ago, when he caught two goblins playing with his soul crystal. Seeing them with it had sent such a jolt of fear through him, that he had bogged them without a second's thought, before snatching his precious crystal back. All he could think was that _she_ was in danger – and he didn't even know who she was yet.

Since then, the shimmering green orb seemed to pulse faster.

Restlessly, he shifted in his throne, the jade soul stone appearing on his black gloved fingertips. With a calculated twist of his wrist, he sent the orb swirling and dancing over his hand, feeling each steady pulse within his own blood. Frowning, deep in thought, he peered into the depths of the crystal, half-expecting it to show him his soul mate, rather than the swirling green smoke that always danced within it. As he watched the smoke twist and twine, he started to feel a dull burning at the base of his neck, his head snapping up to look at the thirteen hour clock upon the wall of the throne room.

A wisher.

Someone was about to wish a child away.

Every goblin in the room, stopped what they were doing, collectively holding their breath like their king, each one of them waiting for the call. The burning sensation began to intensify at the base of the Goblin King's neck, as whispered words seemed to echo within the throne room, "I wish the goblins would come and take you away…right now."

Jareth felt the burning turn into a lancing bolt that seemed to run down his spine, his visage shimmering slightly from the magic contained in the words. All around him, goblins disappeared with small popping noises, as they departed to take the child. The Goblin King's lips twisted in a dark smirk while he waited for them to return, before going to challenge the runner. Rising from the throne, he stalked across the room toward the balcony, his clothing seeming to twist with a life of its own, morphing into the black embossed chest plate and armor of his formal regalia. Standing on the balcony, he watched the Labyrinth shift and move, feeling the anticipation of the sentient maze.

Minutes ticked by, counted down by the ornate clock floating near the throne.

Something was wrong.

The goblins should have been back by now with the child. But there were no goblins in the throne room and more disturbing, no child.

Growling, the Jareth twisted his wrist, peering momentarily at the shimmering black surface of the orb, just before he tossed it in the air. The angry Goblin King's mirror image appeared momentarily in the crystal, vanishing when it burst , as the Goblin King vanished with it.

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Darkness greeted him when he reappeared. Darkness and the heavy smell of iron. His eyes shifted shape, drawing on his owl-form to allow him to see easily in the dark. He appeared to be in the living room of a suburban home. There was a chair toppled on its side next to a shattered coffee table. Books were strewn on the floor, along with smash porcelain and glass. The couch cushions had been slashed, spilling their stuffing onto the floor like entrails. On the floor were a man and a woman, with a small child clutching the female and sobbing.

"Mummy…mummy….wake up. Please," the little girl cried, her long hair falling in a veil over her face and her mothers.

Looking around he saw his goblins standing there, simply watching the girl, their gnarled fingers knotted. One by one they looked at him, yellow eyes glazed in pity and confusion. Jareth watched the girl a moment himself, wondering why the goblins had not completed their task. It was usually a simple thing. Someone made a wish, the goblins arrived, took the offered child, then he swooped in and challenged the runner.

Piece of cake. At least it should be.

Of course, in this instance it appeared that there would be no runner, as it was an adult who had made the wish – the mother, judging from the voice of the one who made the wish. Even if one of the parents were alive to challenge, if the blood on the ground and smell of gun smoke in the air was anything to go by, the child would be better off with him. As it was, with no one to run for her, she was his by default and would return to the Goblin Kingdom with him.

After a moment he moved toward the body of the woman, allowing the menacing look he appeared with, to fade from his face. Slowly he squatted down next to lifeless body, with the little girl still clinging to her shirt. He could see crimson pools peeking from under the body, staining the woman's shirt. He wrinkled his nose, now understanding the iron smell that permeated the room, the smell of blood hanging heavy in the air. The leather of his armor creaked and groaned as he knelt, pale blue eyes fixed upon the chestnut hair of the child.

The little girl looked up at him and he was immediately struck by the depth of her jade eyes, even now as they were rimmed with red and glistening with tears, they captivated him.

"They hurt my mummy and daddy," she whimpered, sniffing sadly.

"Who hurt your mummy and daddy, little one?" Jareth asked quietly, watching the pain play out across her face as she searched for the words to explain.

"The bad men. They were in the house when we got home from my dance class. Daddy yelled at them, then it was noisy and bright. Mummy screamed," she whispered, then looked down at her mother. "Wake up, mummy," she pleaded again, tugging on the woman's shirt, her mother's head rolling lifelessly against her shoulders.

This wasn't the first time in his reign as Goblin King, that Jareth had encountered such a situation, and he knew it would not be the last. But that knowledge did not make what he must now do any easier.

"Your parents will not wake, little one," he said gently. "Your mummy called for me, asking my goblins to come take you, to keep you safe."

The little girl sniffed, rubbing a blood stained hand across her wet eyes, leaving a smear of crimson down her cheek. Reaching out, Jareth tenderly wiped it away with the cuff of his silken shirt.

"I…I can't go," she replied, looking at her father lying nearby. "Daddy said it was bad to go anywhere with strangers."

Smiling inwardly, Jareth could understand the child's dilemma and applauded her obedience even when faced with such a horrific situation for a small girl. "Well then, we must introduce ourselves so we are no longer strangers. My name is Jareth. What is your name?"

"I'm Sarah. Sarah Williams," the little girl said quietly, still clutching her mother's limp hand. "I'm five years old."

Jareth nodded, giving the child a warm smile. "Hello, Miss Sarah Williams," he said as his goblins began to creep up, peering curiously at the child. Sarah looked warily at them, shrinking back against her mother's lifeless form. "Shh…don't be frightened, little one. These are my goblins. I am their king, they bring children who are wished away to me, so I can care for them," he explained, his voice low and soothing. "Your mummy wished you away to me, so I can protect you from the bad men."

At that Sarah whimpered, glancing toward the front door, still ajar from the struggle that took place. "What about mummy and daddy," she asked, sniffing again as tears renewed their slow descent down her cheeks. "Can they come too?"

Jareth held his gloved hand out to her, pleased when she trustingly placed her small hand within it. "I'm sorry, Sarah there is nothing I can do for them."

Crying again she pulled back, pressing her face against the blood-stained shirt of her mother, sobbing the tears of a child too young to really understand the enormity of what had happened. With slow movements, the Goblin King gently scooped the little girl into his arms, cradling her against his chest as she clung to him, her tears rolling down the leather of his breastplate, leaving glistening trails. As he held her, he felt the soul crystal tucked in a pouch against his chest, thrum to life, the heat emanating from it as if trying to reach the little girl. When he glanced down, he saw a faint green aura shimmering around her, his heart faltering in his chest as the situation became clear.

In an odd twist to the warp and weft of fate, he was holding his soul mate – as a child.

And he was bound by his sacred duty to take her away with him.

Truly the Fates had a cruel streak.

"Come, little one. It is time to go," he murmured, giving the top of her head a tender kiss.

"Where are we going?" she mumbled against his shoulder, her arms creeping up to hug him around the neck, her little body tight against his chest.

As odd as the situation was, at that moment, he could see the intricacy of Fate's design, in having him be the one to rescue the child. He too had lost his mother under tragic circumstances, and he knew the pain little Sarah would go through in the coming months. Therefore, who better to care for her and love her, than the one who was destined to love her for eternity.

"How would you like to be a Princess, Sarah darling?" he asked, smiling as she peered up at him, her green eyes showing a curiosity that made the soul stone hum and pulse against his skin.

"Daddy always called me his princess," she replied, then her face fell again, as sadness shrouded it. Sniffing, she hugged him around the neck. "Daddy isn't here anymore. Can I be your princess now?"

Holding her close, he nodded, "Forever, little one. Only forever," he murmured, as the goblins began to fade into the shadows, just before the two figures, one tall and blonde, the other small and dark, disappeared from the house – along with it all human knowledge of the girl named Sarah Williams.

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 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

Yes, I know…I've killed off Sarah's parents with her as a child. There is a method to my madness (have I ever steered my readers wrong before?). Just trust me and all will become clear as things go along. Also, before anyone starts freaking out that this is an 'incest' fic or something skeevy…relax! As stated in the summary, this is mostly Paternal!Jareth and Child!Sarah, with a bit of Child!Jareth thrown in as flashbacks. It is mostly a series of plot bunnies that attacked me, asking me to consider what would happen if Sarah ended up in Jareth's 'care' as a small child. What sorts of scenarios would they end up in and how would she end up back above, with Toby and her 'parents' to lead up to the events depicted in 'Labyrinth'. So…just hang in there, stick with the story and all will be revealed as we go along


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